


Unbreakable

by Ardwynna



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Aerith Week 2021, Ficlet Collection, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-14 05:35:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29413497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ardwynna/pseuds/Ardwynna
Summary: Ficlets about a flower girl who would not be stopped.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	1. The First Real Birthday

It wasn’t much of a cake. More of a large muffin, really. But the child had never had a real one, she was certain. Not much of a real birthday either. A little creativity with the household budget, a bit of careful haggling and trade, and there was enough to do a cake justice. Not enough for frosting, but the cake itself was nice, a light lemon sponge.

It wasn’t quite her mother’s recipe. Not quite enough sugar. One egg less than proper, made up with milk. Margarine and oil instead of rich butter from the farm down the road. There were no more farms down the road, and if her grandmother had caught sight of her using pink lemonade powder mix, the old dame would have had a stroke.

But the family lemon tree hadn’t borne much by the time Elmyra was born, with the steel plate creeping across the sky above it. It had withered and died before she turned twelve, and getting fresh fruit on a slum budget, well…

So the giant birthday muffin was what it was, a little artificial, a little less rich, and really pink. Elmyra pondered the empty packet of drink mix and wondered just how much artificial coloring was in the stuff. Still, the finished product did look pretty, with its thin filling of strawberry jelly and the one birthday candle that she could find. And her girl would be up any minute now. It was going to be such a surprise. Getting her birthdate out of her had been such a chore already, a bigger achievement than even the cake. Elmyra stared at the thing and let out a heavy breath. She hoped it worked.

Sure enough, Aerith came tromping down the steps bare seconds before the underplate lights flashed on, all washed and scrubbed and her hair flying loose, ribbon in hand for Elmyra to handle. She froze on the bottom step and stared at the table.

Elmyra smiled. “Happy birthday, Aerith.”

Aerith’s eyes flicked up at her, then back to the cake. “Is that… mine?”

“Yes, Aerith,” Elmyra said, swallowing. “You never had one before, right?”

The child shook her head and glanced around the room, searching for something. White coats, perhaps, and needles and scans and tests. Everything that her birthday used to mean. One little foot shifted backwards, hitting the stair behind.

Elmyra flew forward and scooped the girl up, right off the ground. “Happy birthday,” she said, breathing the words into the girl’s hair. “Happy birthday, happy birthday, happy birthday.” She hugged as tight as she dared. Aerith didn’t struggle. She made a tight little cry.

Then, with shaking hands, she hugged back. Elmyra felt the little fingers clinging to her sleeves. She swayed back and forth with her girl in her arms and made her way back to the table. She hooked a chair with one foot and pulled it out just enough for sitting. She slumped into it, swooping Aerith into her lap as she did.

“Happy birthday, Aerith,” she said one more time, rocking the girl in her arms. She listened for sobbing. She waited for tears.

There were none. Aerith took a deep breath and turned her head towards to the modest breakfast spread. She stared a while. “I never had a birthday cake before.”

Elmyra pressed a kiss to the side of Aerith’s head. “Well, I think it’s about time you had one, dear. Now come on, let me fix your hair.”

Aerith slid off Elmyra’s lap and let her new mother fix a fancy braid for the occasion, keeping her eye on the cake the whole time. “What kind is it.”

“Strawberry lemonade, I suppose,” said Elmyra, past the ribbon in her mouth.

“Is that why it’s pink? That’s so cool! Are we going to have cake for breakfast?”

“A little, but you’re going to have a proper breakfast and juice too. Nutrition first.”

“Are you going to light the candle? Do I get to blow it out?”

“Of course you do,” Elmyra said, tying off the braid. Aerith hopped up and down in place. Then she turned.

“Do you think _they’ll_ visit?”

Elmyra knew who she meant. She fought off the cold chill of the thought. No more tests. No more scans. No more birthday things that weren’t what birthdays should be. “They better not,” she said, moving to bar the door. “No cake for them.”

Aerith grinned. “Nope. None at all.”


	2. Butterfly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A slum girl under the steel sky

“Would you like to buy a flower, sir? Only ten gil.”

It was the plate price, not the slum one, and still dirt cheap at that. But a few sold here to the crowds leaving the theater, in their fancy furs and pearls, that would set her up for a while. Maybe get something nice and helpful for Mom.

The grey-haired couple glanced down their noses at her as if she were some sort of insect and marched on by. The sleeve of the woman’s sable coat brushed Aerith’s bare arm. So soft, incredibly soft, for a woman with such hard, kohl-rimmed eyes. No amount of flowers would buy that kind of softness, plate price or no.

Aerith shook her head and tried again, a younger couple this time. Luck was better here. Young men were always trying to impress their dates, and another woman present usually meant they wouldn’t get fresh with Aerith herself. At least not too much.

But it was setting up for rain, and the crowd was dispersing too quickly for good sales. She soon stood alone in the square, watching the people disappear into the side streets and cafes. She sighed and checked the space around her before feeling her stash. Nothing but plate pocket change.

She took a deep breath and stared up at the sky. The first fat drops were beginning to fall. They glinted green on the way down, catching the glare of mako lights and the glowing reactor in the distance. She sighed and began the walk towards the train station.

She didn’t have a Fast Pass. Those cost real money. But the one way tickets were cheap enough, and she had bought her return from the machine as soon as she hit the plate. Faster that way. Easier escape. Less time lingering in the dark with the Turks and other creeps.

The late train was late. It usually was. It only mattered that workers got their posts on time, not that they got home the same way. She found a seat close to the door. Technically it made for a faster exit, but that depended on which door the Turks decided to use. They could pin her down by coming through both doors if they wanted, if they would spare the manpower. It was a risk, but plate money was worth it.

The train rattled on the way down and she found herself leaning into the sway, flowing with the pull of curving around the pillar like water falling from up high and swirling down the drain. Through the window she caught a glimpse of the steel underbelly of the plate. It wasn’t good to stare too hard at the beams close up. They went by too fast and it had once made her sick. Not good for sales to be taken for yet another slum drunk.

She sat all prim, arms around the basket on her lap, maintaining appearances while she did the calculations in her head. Sales depended on so many things. On her neatness. On dressing just right, all innocent and sweet. On the lilt in her voice. On the weather. On the time. On the mood of the customer. Or the occasion. On spending enough time with the nail brush before she went out for her rounds. On doing everything to hide the fact that she was just another filthy dirt runner from below the plate.

Maybe when the train reached ground, she’d hang around the entrance to Wall Market a little. There were always people looking to impress a date there. Or johnnies trying to make up to their favorite girl. Or philandering jerks trying to get a peace offering for the wife on the plate. Maybe.

She kept her eyes on the seat opposite her, and her ears on the wino on the other end of the car. He was dozing off, his forehead resting on the window. No threat at all. She glanced through the window now and then, keeping track of the journey by the rising of the plate over her head. If she worked at it, she could pretend that it was the plate that moved, spinning and spinning overhead while she was the one sitting still.

Sometimes she wondered what it would be like to crawl around on the underside of the thing, in the beams and the cables like the bug the plate dwellers thought she must be. If nothing else it would be a change of pace. She leaned back and took in the view, letting the dimmed plate lights form trails in her sight. It would be cheaper overall if she could flit up there on her own, like a moth. And maybe it would be fun, once in a while, to be a spider instead, with her own web, lying in wait.

The train’s wheels ground to a halt, the groan of metal followed by a mechanical hiss. Aerith glanced out the door before she stepped outside. The platform was almost deserted at this hour. The train conductor tipped his hat at her as she went by and she gave him a polite word. Funny. She didn’t know his name or anything. But they saw each other often enough, and sometimes he bought a flower. She gave him the blue collar discount.

But tonight just wasn’t a sale night. The flowers in her basket could decorate the house before returning to the earth as compost and mulch. She brushed her hands over the petals for a moment, then went down the stairs. The way home was dark but she knew it by memory and feel alone, by several different roads if necessary. And there was still Wall Market. Or the church, if she wanted to return the flowers directly to the earth. She turned her eyes to the plate as she pondered the options.

The steel beams stretched overhead, blocking the reactor glare, and the rain. Not the stars, really. The reactor haze already did a pretty good job of that. Plate money didn’t buy everything. It didn’t buy clean air or growing green, or safety. Not really. The upper plate folk, they thought they had it all, but they didn’t even remember what they had lost. They didn’t remember the feel of soft earth or the joy of new grass. They didn’t know a clear sky any more than she did. They buzzed around all day to produce and produce and produce and barely had time to appreciate a flower.

But she did. It wasn’t much, definitely not much compared to a fur coat, or a vacation home on a beach somewhere far away. But it was something, and it was hers. She steadied her basket on her arm and turned her feet for home.


	3. Dress For Success

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aerith has a new pink dress and somebody notices a couple things about it.

“That’s pretty.”

Aerith glanced up from her flowers. “What do you want?” Her fist tightened around her old trowel.

“Hey, hey!” Reno said, hands up. He backed away a few steps. “Just a social call, girlfriend. Checking the scene, nothing more.”

“Uh huh.” Aerith stabbed the earth a few times. “Well, you’ve checked, nothing’s changed. You can head on back now.”

“Now, now, I wouldn’t say nothing’s changed,” Reno said, walking in a slow circle around the room. “You got a new dress. I like it.”

Aerith scoffed. “It wouldn’t look good on you.”

Reno froze. “The mouth don’t match the looks, that’s for sure.” He slumped back into the closest pew, propping one leg on the arm. “And it would too look good. Pretty pink dress and my flaming hair? Perfect combination.”

Aerith raised one eyebrow at him, then sighed and went back to work. She had her head bowed but Reno knew when he was being watched. “Gotta say,” he drawled, “There’s a lot more cleavage in this dress than your last one.”

The Ancient sat back, hands flying up across her chest. “Who said you could look?”

Reno held his hands up again. “I’m not looking, I’m just noticing. And I mean, you were at that angle and all.” Aerith huffed at him and dragged her basket around, setting it between them as a sort of barricade. “If it makes you feel any better, I could sit on the other side and look at your ass instead.”

She gave him a stare that would have blistered paint. “You’re a pervert.”

“I’m a guy,” Reno said, “which is kind of almost the same thing.”

“In your shady circles,” Aerith grumbled, bending to her work again. This time she leaned over far enough for her bangs to curtain the view. There was no sound for a while but of the trowel stabbing into the earth. Reno was not exactly sure what it was about.

“It is a nice dress,” he said. “Why pink, though?” Her eyes shot up at him and dropped just as quickly. There was something going on there, but just maybe it wasn’t really Shinra business. Hard to know where the line was when it came to her.

“The girlier I look, the better the sales,” she said, shaking her head.

“Oh, I get it. Marketing! So where’d you get it?”

She kept digging little holes. “Secondhand market,” she said. “Mom altered it to fit.”

“Huh. Good job,” Reno said. He tapped the back of the pew with his mag rod. “So, your mother does know you’re out dressed like this.”

“Oh, for crying out loud, Reno, I’m not a child!” A startled pigeon fluttered up in the rafters.

“Yeah, I know, I noticed. We all did.” Reno said. He sat up straight and sighed. “You really are growing up.”

Aerith turned away, rooting around in a cluster of bulbs. “That’s normal, isn’t it?” Her cheeks were turning as pink as the dress.

“Yeah, it is.” Reno slumped back against the pew again, sliding sideways till he was on his back with a knee hooked over the armrest and one foot on the ground. “Everything’s different when you’re grown up.”

Aerith began breaking up a clump of bulbs with both hands. “You mean, I get to attract regular creeps instead of just you guys.” Her fingers pressed into the gaps like they were trying to crack a trachea.

“I… can’t argue with that statement,” Reno said. “I’ll just have to drink it away later. If Tseng has to haul my drunken ass out of a gutter later tonight, sister, that’s on you.”

Aerith shrugged. “Fine with me.”

“Cool.”

“Good.”

“So long as we agree.”

“We do.”

“Right then.” Reno swung himself up. She was replanting individual bulbs into the holes she had dug. She had explained it to him once, something about not crowding. She would probably be done soon and he really couldn’t come up with an excuse to stay any longer. “Well, I best be going.”

He was halfway down the aisle when the thought hit him. “Hey, you think you might maybe want to get a shawl to go with your dress? In case it gets cold up top, you know?”

She sat back on her heels and rolled her eyes at him. “I have cleavage coverage, you nitwit,” she said, lifting a sturdy little jacket out of the basket.

“Well, look at that! Red!” Reno crowed. “Told you it was a good look. See you later, sweetness. Hope your sales are good tonight.”

“Hope you don’t drown in the gutter.” Aerith said.

“That’s so very kind of you,” Reno said. He saluted her with the mag rod as he slid out, and gently closed the door

Aerith kept replanting bulbs for a count of one hundred before she let herself relax and let out the breath she had been half-holding. She looked at the jacket slung over the edge of the basket. It was a useful little thing, made of good fabric with extra pockets, the kind that zippered or buttoned shut. It had felt right when she tried it on.

And it did keep certain things from being too immediately obvious. Mom had worried about that too. She wasn’t planning to zip it up but that wasn’t any of Reno’s damn business.


	4. Sunburst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seeking colors in a world of drab grey and brown.

Sometimes her mother, her birth mother, would try to describe the sun. “Like a lamp,” she used to say, “but warm, and yellow, and it goes down when it should so you can sleep properly. And it doesn’t turn on at odd hours to wake you up whenever it likes either.”

It was round too. Aerith tried to imagine it. But most of the lamps around her were rectangular, angled in some way and cold, and they bore that hint of stolen green that was very nearly the only kind of green she knew. 

It was hard to imagine something that vibrant. The colors in her paintbox were the brightest she got to see. She painted the world her mother described with all the color she imagined it to be while the one around her remained limited and dull. So much grey. An excess of white. And eventually red. Too much red.

Then she was scooped up by a new mother and whisked away to a beautiful house of wood, real, old, worn wood, in a patch of brown dirt that had once been a thriving farm. It was a change, not much of one, but a change. So many shades of earth. She tried to count the different colors of stone that made up the kitchen floor.

And then the colors came. White, but a living white now, a pale cream touched in the center with pink and gold. Long bursts of purple, waving in the wind like fox tails. Rosy petals and snowy ones, and even a touch of true blue. That was rare beneath the plate. The lilies in the church soon became her favorite, growing out of the forgotten remnants of grief as they did. The yellow ones were her favorite. She watched them open like fireworks, as golden as the sun. 

She still hadn’t seen it, not really. Light made its way in past the plate’s edge. And the lamps overhead were round now, but still cold. She knew now that you weren’t supposed to stare directly into the sun, but if the day came she ever dared venture under a clear sky, she was sure she would have a hard time with it. She would stare at the big round orb until it was permanently etched into her sight. 

Till then, she always kept a yellow lily for herself.


	5. Every Which Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life outside the plate can feel overwhelming if you've never known anything else. Aerith takes surprising steps to adapt.

Lots of people, most even, Tifa would bet, started zoning out in front of an open fire. It was just a little extreme with Aerith. Like she was off on some entirely different plane of existence, far away, out of reach. Maybe it was the way she could sit without fidgeting. With the firelight caught in her eyes, she wouldn’t even brush her hair out of her face.

Tifa sat beside her friend, completing the circle around the fire. Everyone else looked lost in thought, except possibly for Cid, who looked asleep. Barret reached over and yanked the lit cigarette from the pilot’s lips. “Jackass,” he said, grinding the thing out in the dirt in front of him. “Come on, Smokey, let’s get you into a tent.”

“Nuh, I don’t wanna go,” Cid grumbled, half in his sleep. Barret lugged him up and they made the half-sleep stumble to the sleeping bags. Tifa chuckled and poked at the fire with a stick.

“Tifa?”

“Yeah?” She turned. Aerith had spoken, apparently. But she still hadn’t moved. She did not say anything more either. “What’s up?” Tifa prompted.

Aerith shook her head, returning to earth. “What was it like, growing up like this?”

Tifa looked around at the cluster of tents, at Cloud sharpening his sword in the distance, and the fresh earth over the pit where they’d buried dinner’s bones. “Uh, I grew up in a house.”

Aerith made a small laugh. “I meant, all of this, you know?”

“The sky?” Tifa guessed. The stars were out in force tonight, with no reactor to dim their glow.

“Yeah, that. And all this…” Aerith screwed her face up, searching for the word. “I don’t know. Space?”

“Oh.” Tifa blinked. She looked around, straining to see as far as she could into the dark beyond the flames. “I never really noticed it until it was gone, you know.”

“Did you miss it?”

“For a while,” Tifa said. “One minute you’re roaming fields outside of town, or going down everything that looks like a mountain trail, and the next…”

“You can’t see beyond the wall and only go where the train tracks take you.” Aerith breathed deep. “I always wondered what I would do if I got out here. Now I’m not sure what.”

“Well,” Tifa said, doing a simple palm stretch against the oddness of the thoughts. “The possibilities are endless.”

“That’s the part that I don’t get,” Aerith said. “How do you pick one? How do you know which direction? Or exactly where to step, even? I mean, sometimes in the grass, there isn’t even a trail. It’s… weird.” Her face fell. “I’m the weird one, aren’t I? Acting like I don’t even know how to cross a floor.”

Tifa thought of Midgar and its roads and backstreets. Of the narrow alleys and passes. The pillars to step around. The giant piles of trash. The train and its tracks and even the corridors of that hellspot they had found Aerith in. Set trails for the passing. Narrow, predetermined paths.

“Makes sense,” she said. “I mean, up till now you’ve never even seen a real field, much less run through one, right?”

“Yep, that’s about it,” Aerith said. Then the firelight in her eyes turned into a devil’s gleam. “Let’s do it!”

“Do what?”

“Run through a field,” Aerith said. “I mean, we’re in one right now, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” Tifa said, “but maybe not in the middle of the night?”

“First thing in the morning, then. Let’s get up before dawn and just go nuts!” The grin was infectious, and the devil knew how to tempt a girl.

Tifa glanced up at Cloud to make sure he wasn’t listening in. “Sure, why not?”

“Great!” Aerith jumped up and dusted herself off. “I’m turning in. Big day tomorrow.”

“Yep, me too,” Tifa said.

“Know what?” Aerith said, not ten minutes later in their shared tent. “This is probably the first time in my whole life I haven’t been around either a security camera or a Turk.”

Tifa was almost afraid to ask what the girl was cooking. “So…?”

“That’s right. Tomorrow? Clothing optional!”


End file.
